


Survivors

by Luzula



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: I wish I could've written something longer and plottier for you! Sadly I only managed this little snippet.





	Survivors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minnabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnabird/gifts).



Cassian expected to find supplies in the supply room, not a crying Leia Organa. 

"Sorry," he said, bumping against a pile of some sort of mechanical spare parts in his first impulse to back out the door again. They teetered over and scattered on the floor. He smiled wryly at her. 

"It's all right," she said. Her initial startlement had passed, and she straightened, owning her tears. 

Cassian crouched down to straighten up the pile, and Leia did too, wiping her eyes. "The strangest things remind me of Alderaan these days," she said. 

Even in the bulky cold-weather gear they had to use on Hoth, he could see why half the base had a crush on her. Not just her beauty, but the drama and romance of it, the orphaned princess in a white dress with a gun in her hand, taking aim at the Empire. Beautiful women with weapons always made great recruitment poster material. 

Cassian shut down the cynical line of thought and focused on the human being in front of him. "I'm very sorry about Alderaan," he said seriously. 

"It would've been more than Alderaan if you hadn't got the Death Star plans out from Scarif," she said. "Thank you." 

The mention of Scarif stabbed him with grief and survivor's guilt, as always. "It wasn't just me."

"No, I realize that." 

They finished the stacking. Cassian hesitated, thinking he should just grab what he came here to get and extricate himself. 

"So what are you doing now?" Leia asked. 

That wasn't her business, and probably way above her security clearance. Cassian felt a sting of resentment at her presumption. She _was_ a princess, and probably used to having the privilege to order people around. But the Rebellion wasn't run like a monarchy, and he'd been in it almost since she was born. 

"At the moment, finding a thicker jacket," he said. 

Leia smiled, somewhat sheepish. "I guess that isn't my business. I'm still trying to find out where I can do the most good for the Rebellion, you know?" 

All right, she was good, Cassian thought, revising his opinion of her yet again. She had no problem disarming his expectation of arrogance. Which made sense, because she wasn't just a princess; more importantly, she'd been a politician. Masks—Cassian was used to putting them on, and probably so was she.

But those tears, that wasn't a mask. She was also a teenager, one who'd been traumatized by war. So had he been, when he was young. 

"Sorry if I was short with you. I can't tell you any details of what I do." 

Cassian smiled at her apologetically

"No, of course not. I was just...making conversation." She spread her hands. "And now I should get to work again. It's the best remedy, really." 

Cassian inclined his head. "I've always found it to be so."

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could've written something longer and plottier for you! Sadly I only managed this little snippet.


End file.
